


Bad for the Soul

by nomave



Category: due South
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 18:05:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomave/pseuds/nomave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scene from 'Good for the Soul', told from Ray Kowalski's point of view, speculating as to what happened in between Fraser being attacked and him arriving back at the station with Ray, plus Ray's thoughts while Fraser is being treated by Frannie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad for the Soul

I get the call while I’m trying to persuade the vending machine to produce something that tastes like coffee.   
“Vecchio,” I say into the cell phone. It’s automatic to say the name now – I no longer have to think about it.  
“It’s about the Mountie. You might want to come and get him,” it’s not a voice I recognise, “He’s outside Warfield’s club.”   
“What’s goin’ on?” I demand.  
“Just come. He’s in a bad way.”  
I don’t need to be told twice. I’m out of the station and running towards the car before I even disconnect the call. Shit. I should have kept an eye on Fraser! Someone already tried to beat him up once. If something happens to him I’ll never forgive myself – and Vecchio (the real one) will probably punch my lights out when he gets back.  
When I pull up outside the club I see Fraser sitting slumped against the wall, with his head leaning against the bricks. His eyes are closed, there’s blood on his face and he’s holding one arm around his stomach. It’s pretty clear someone has worked him over – or more than one person, ‘cos one guy on his own would never get the better of Fraser, not so that he couldn’t get up again.   
One of the bouncers is standing near him. I rocket out of the car demanding to know what the guy has done to him, but he holds up his hands and claims it has nothing to do with him, “Look, he went into the alley after some dame screamed. When he came out again he was like this – had to lean on the wall to walk. He tried to stand guard again, but then he kinda stumbled – thought he was going to pass out so I told him to sit down. Said I’d call an ambulance but he wouldn’t have it – I eventually got him to give me your number.”  
I sigh and look over at Fraser – it all sounds about right. I just knew this thing with Warfield was going to end badly – I really should have been keeping a closer eye on the stubborn Mountie. I go up to Fraser and crouch beside him, touch his shoulder to get his attention. Up close he looks really pale. There’s a lot of blood on his left temple, cut on his nose, split lip, and grazes on the right side of his face. And that’s just what I can see. He should have let the guy call an ambulance.  
“Hello, Ray,” he says, real quiet. He’s looking towards me, but not really at me. What I see, or rather don’t see, in those eyes scares me.  
You see, people think Fraser’s this really calm, unemotional guy – sort of Mr Spock without the ear issues. They think he’s completely, what’s that word? Impassive – yeah, that’s a good word. Impassive. I used to think so too, but I learned pretty quick that if Fraser won’t let you know what’s going on with him, you look at his eyes, that’s where you see all the emotions. But now, I’m looking at those eyes and can’t see anything. It’s like something has died. Like he’s defeated or something. I mean, I’ve seen him feeling down before – I know he was kinda depressed after Vecchio left, and that he wished everything had worked out with that bounty hunter chick, but I saw the emotions then – now his eyes are just blank.  
“Hey Fraser. You don’t look so good,” I manage to say. Talk about stating the obvious.   
He doesn’t answer.  
“Come on buddy, let’s get you out of here.” I take his arm and put it round my shoulder and manage to haul him to his feet. I can tell he’s in pain, but apart from sucking in his breath, he’s making real sure not to make any sounds to show it. He’s pretty unsteady, but we make it to the car and I get him into the passenger seat. I go round to the other side and get in. I glance at him as I pull away from the kerb. He’s slumped in the passenger seat with his head drooping. The posture and the silence are unnatural for Fraser – he may be a freak, but I know what the freak is like and this isn’t right.  
“Look,” I say, “I’m going to take you to the hospital and get you fixed up, okay?”  
“No.” he says. Not ‘no thank you’ or ‘thank you kindly, Ray, but that will not be necessary’, just ‘No.’  
“You’re hurt. You need help.”  
“I do not need to go to hospital, Ray. Just take me back to the Consulate.”  
I know why he doesn’t want to go to the hospital – he knows they’ll want to keep him in overnight. And he’d rather be alone, brooding. I’m not having that. I think about what to do – I can go to the Consulate with him, find a first aid kit and fix him up, make sure he’s okay, but I’m not real good at the first aid thing. I can take him back to my place, but that won’t work for the same reason, and besides, I left Dief at the station. That’s a better idea – take him back to the precinct. “Okaaaay. Have it your way,” I say, “Back to the station first though. You’ll have to give us a statement about what happened.”  
He seems to accept that, or just doesn’t care, “Very well,” he says, no emotion at all in his voice.  
We don’t say anything else. The silence is making me uncomfortable. It’s not far to the station, but it’s still killing me. When we get there, Fraser goes to get out of the car by himself, but ends up gasping and dropping back into the seat. He looks a bit angry then, but it passes. I get his arm round my shoulder again. He’s trying not to lean on me but knows he can’t make it on his own. Not sure how we manage to get up the stairs, but somehow we make it. As we go down the corridor towards the squad room Frannie comes running towards us, looking scared when she sees her Mountie is injured. Poor Fraser – he’ll hate having people making a fuss, and here’s the main fusser.   
Dewey wants to know what happened. I suddenly realise that I don’t really know.   
“Shouldn’t he be in hospital?” Huey asks.  
“Wouldn’t go,” I explain – Fraser’s leaning on me more now and I’m actually glad Frannie’s helping. We manage to get him to a chair and she goes for the first aid kit. I get Fraser’s coat and red Mountie jacket off whilst she’s gone. He’s just sitting there, as if he doesn’t care. “Okay, let’s have a look at the damage before Frannie comes back and wants to get her hands all over you.” He just lets me lift his shirt. There’s red marks all over his stomach – they’ll turn into bruises before long, but there’s nothing that screams internal injuries to me. I can see Frannie bearing down on us from the corner of my eye and let Fraser get tucked back in before she notices any bare skin.  
Hearing all the commotion, Welsh comes out of his office. Frannie is fussing with antiseptic. Welsh and I start asking questions. It’s hard going, ‘cos Fraser doesn’t really want to talk, but we eventually manage to get out of him what happened. Thugs hurled him through a car window, kicked him, punched him, hit him across the back with a piece of wood and then just left him on the ground. I swear, if I get my hands on them, I’ll give them more than just a kicking! I’m worried about this hit across the back – he’s still got that bullet somewhere there. Fraser says I don’t need to worry, that the bullet wound was lower down. Everything he says is in this kind of dull voice, like nothing matters.   
Welsh goes off to see if he can get Stella to agree to nail Warfield for this. Frannie’s still trying to fix the cuts on Fraser’s face. Normally he’d be really skittish about how close she is, but he’s just sitting there letting her breathe heavily all over him. He won’t meet our eyes, he’s just looking down, not real interested in what’s going on around him. He doesn’t even really react when Frannie tries to get him to take his shirt off – though I get a bit annoyed then – he just corrects her on some word she got wrong. But it’s like he’s doing it out of habit.   
Welsh comes back with Stella. They’re saying that it’s no can do on getting Warfield – no proof to connect him to Fraser getting worked over. I know they’re right, but it doesn’t make it fair. And Stella’s doing her hard act again – she even manages to piss off Welsh. It’s all getting me pretty worked up. I mean, here’s Fraser sitting there, beaten, hurting (despite what he’s trying not to show), and we can’t get anyone for it? Where’s the justice in that? Hah - now I’m starting to sound mountie-ish. Welsh asks Fraser if he can identify any of the assailants, but Fraser just says they were hooded. That’s not like him either – normally he’d be telling you what they had for breakfast just by what their breath smelt like, even if couldn’t describe their faces. It’s like he just doesn’t care any more. It’s making me kinda nervous.   
Welsh is saying something about us not being too much help to Fraser on this one.  
Fraser’s still got that dead look in his eyes. He says, “I’ve come to believe I have unrealistic expectations.”  
I try and put it more positively, “A little impractical maybe…”  
“No Ray,” still quiet, he sounds…um…resigned I think is the right way to describe it, “you were right, you can’t beat the system.”  
He’s really scaring me now. This isn’t the Fraser I know. He gets up and is getting his things together. “Let me give you a ride home,” I say.  
“No,” again, just ‘No’, “I think I’ll walk. A walk will do me good.”  
Frannie and I glance at each other. When Fraser came in he barely made it to the chair without collapsing. Is he going to get back to the Consulate on his own?  
Frannie’s obviously thinking the same thing, “Fraze, take it easy, okay?”  
“Understood.” He can’t wait to leave. Pretty obvious he just wants to be alone. He didn’t want to come back to the station in the first place. Everyone stares at him as he walks out of the squad room. His shoulders are slumped and he just blanks everyone. At least he’s not limping anymore I suppose, but I’m still worried. But now it’s not just about his health. We’ve let him down, and he’s lost faith in the belief that justice can always be done. That’s not good. He’s not going to get over that easily. It’s like he’s broken. Oh my god, we broke the Mountie!   
Stella flounces off. As soon as she’s gone I turn to Welsh, “Isn’t there anything we can do?”  
Welsh is frowning, still looking at where Fraser went. Then he says, “Let’s go into my office.” He calls in Huey and Dewey as well.  
He’s got an idea.   
Maybe we can help Fraser after all.


End file.
